


Just Drive

by crystalkei



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:58:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4769261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalkei/pseuds/crystalkei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wait, mister rule follower, mister this is not the Russian way,” she repeated his words in a poor impression of his accent. “You stole your father’s Stalin given car and just went for rides? For fun?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Drive

“When did you learn to drive?” Gaby asked her head resting against his shoulder as Illya’s fingers moved through her hair.

 

“I was...12, maybe 13,” Illya replied.

 

“Did you drive a tractor or something?” Her fingers danced across his bare chest while he made a face.

 

“No, I took my father’s issued car for joy rides.”   
  
“Wait, mister rule follower, mister _this is not the Russian way_ ,” she repeated his words in a poor impression of his accent. “You stole your father’s Stalin given car and just went for rides? For fun?” Gaby looked at him skeptically. He nodded as though it were a ridiculous question.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Who put you up to that?” She leaned in closer like it was an interrogation, though with both of them naked, she probably wasn’t very intimidating.  

 

“No one, I was the one who convinced my friend to do the same. We used to go out on the farm roads and race.”

 

“Surely you got caught at some point, racing government cars out on dirt roads, they would have been a mess.”

 

“We would race until late at night, then on our way home, we’d pull off at a road stop and wash the cars quickly, so our fathers wouldn’t notice.” He stroked across her back absently remembering the events, a small smile trying to work it’s way across his face.

 

“So you really didn’t get caught?” Gaby asked.

 

“My friend, Anton, one night he hit a lamp post on his way home.” Gaby’s eyes lit up. “Obviously he could not hose off the dent in the front bumper.”   
  
“And he implicated you in the whole thing, yeah?” A wide grin broke out on her face.

 

“Let’s just say one of us has a successful career with the KGB, the other cannot keep secrets about birthday presents.”

 

“So then, what was your punishment?”

 

“Why do you enjoy this story so much? You want to know how I was beaten?” he asked with a laugh that rumbled through him easily, Gaby laughed with him because he did this so rarely and it was sort of lovely.

 

“Yes, you stole your father’s car!” she said sitting up now, her hands waving wildly. “It just seems like one of your terrible cover stories. I’m not sure I believe it.”

 

“Why did you even ask then?” Gaby tilted her head and pressed her lips together like it might give her more time to determine her words, but he raised his eyebrow at her and she snorted to herself, giving in.

 

“The night Solo got me out of East Berlin,” she started. “You kept up with me in that shitty little car. I’d worked on the engine of mine, I’m a professional driver, but you were almost impossible to lose.” Illya nodded and again he shrugged, he was trying for modest but she saw the hint of gloating in his eyes. “You still failed that night, thank god, who knows what would have happened then. But I was impressed.”

 

Illya reached out to her, gently running his fingertips along her cheek, down her chin and neck, along her bare shoulder, he was looking at her with that fondness that made the air leave her lungs, made her blood pump faster, and yet terrified her all the same. It always had. She swallowed, averting her gaze to his lips to run away from the softness in his eyes.

 

“So maybe you’ll believe my story then, I did not lie. I learned to drive like that as a boy, in the middle of the night, trying to rebel against his father’s control.”

 

“I believe you,” she admitted before kissing him lazy and slow. “But I just can’t _believe it_ believe it.”

 

“You want to go race cars, Chop Shop Girl?” he said as she straddled him, Illya’s hands moving to her hips.

 

“Let’s take Waverly and Solo’s, hm?” Gaby answered, sliding down on him causing them both to groan in pleasure.

 

“That’s a good plan.”

 

The next morning, they were rudely awoken by Waverly and Solo yelling about dents and scratches and that pesky blown out tire. But it was worth it.


End file.
